


Someone Oughta Open Up A Window

by PrincessSkylar



Category: American Revolution RPF, I Made America (Web Series)
Genre: 1776 references, Comma Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sfw i promise, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6539605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessSkylar/pseuds/PrincessSkylar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know the famous bed-sharing story, but what if it was gayer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Oughta Open Up A Window

**Author's Note:**

> Written, edited, and published from my phone so I apologize if there are any mistakes I missed.
> 
> Intended to be IMA but if you ship IRL Fradams I'm not gonna shame ya.

Ben delighted in the cool September air, the cold pine-scented wind which whipped at his face, overridden by the much more immediate smell of the horses pulling the carriage he was driving.

 

As much as he was prone to revel in brief periods of silence dedicated to his own thoughts, Ben found his mind wandering back to the passengers in the carriage. Those passengers being, of course, John Adams and Edward Rutledge; the three of them on a mission to try to negotiate peace with British General Sir Richard Howe, who was, arguably, the less terrifying Howe brother. Regardless, Ben would be lying to say he looked forward to the meeting.

 

He did, however, enjoy travelling. The moments of peace he was allowed when placed in charge of directing the horses, as peace was so hard to come by nowadays. He enjoyed meeting new people, particularly new women, tasting new foods, and feeling new air.

 

Mostly, however, he enjoyed the private conversations and intimate experiences he could find with his travelling companions. There was a sort of solidarity, he believed, between people when they experienced something unique to their shared stories. Moments which you could later recall and enjoy in memory together without the contamination of familiarity with those uninvolved.

 

It was his hope that, on this journey, he could create such memories with his dear friend John Adams. And that was the very sort of thought that seemed to keep Ben from thoroughly relaxing in his seat at the forefront of the carriage. He wondered now what sort of memories John Adams was creating with Edward Rutledge.

 

If he were to be quite honest, Franklin was unsure what caused his contempt for anyone consorting with John. He supposed it was a sort of jealousy, but what right did he have to be jealous? Him and Adams were good friends, yes, but hardly more than that. Best friends, maybe, but it didn’t seem likely that John shared that kind of sentiment.

 

No, it seemed Ben was developing some sort of strange fondness for Adams. He found himself thinking odd thoughts about the younger man, about his appearance and his personal life, thoughts that were well beyond appropriate for someone who was not even in his family.

 

Nothing scandalous, of course. Simply things like, how handsome John looks when he was determined, standing before congress and demanding independency. Things like, how attractive John probably looked playing with his children, or holding his wife.

 

Oh, the thought of John's wife did bring a curl to Ben’s stomach. He had never met Abigail, and he felt a fierce protectiveness for John, he wondered often if this woman could possibly be deserving of the affection which she received from her husband.

 

Those were the sort of improper thoughts Ben Franklin had about John Adams. 

 

Now, however, the sun was setting, and Ben knew it would be dark soon. He pulled the reins to slow the horses as he approached a slave walking down the street.

 

“Excuse me, sir!” he called.

 

The slave looked up at him. “Yessir?”

 

“Could you direct me to the nearest inn?” Ben asked politely. 

 

The slave nodded and pointed down the road. “Keep goin’ straight, ‘til you see the big church buildin’, then go left.”

 

“Thank you, young man.” 

 

“Yessir,” the slave repeated with a nod, and continued on his journey.

 

Ben did the same, whipping the horses to move along.

 

The slave’s directions proved accurate, and Ben was soon tying up the horses and feeding them as John and Edward went inside to procure them rooms. Ben patted one of the horses before turning to follow the other two men. 

 

“Ah! There he is,” John spoke, as Ben approached, redirecting his attention away from the woman with whom he had apparently been conversing. “We were just discussing rooming arrangements, as there are only two rooms available, and they each only contain one bed.”

 

“I see,” Ben answered, “We could keep travelling until we find another inn.”

 

“That's what I said,” Rutledge replied, “However…”

 

The woman, probably a proprietor of the tavern, spoke now, “There's not another inn for twenty miles, and these roads are treacherous at night.”

 

Ben hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I don't mind bunking up. Which of you will have me, then?”

 

“I will,” John answered, to Ben’s secret delight and simultaneous despair. “If you are sure that that would be alright.”

 

Ben nodded. “Then it’s settled.”

 

“I will show you to your rooms,” said the woman, and the three followed her outside.

 

*******

 

The room in which Ben and John were to spend the night was horrifically small, only about two feet of space between the wall and the bed on only one side.

 

“Well, then,” John huffed, puffing his chest in the way he did when faced with a difficult equation. “I suppose we really are to share the bed itself.”

 

Ben shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant about the situation. “That's that,” he confirmed, and sat on the edge of the bed and began to strip off his top layer of clothing-- shoes, socks, ascot, jacket, vest. 

 

John joined him and began to do the same. “Please tell me, dear Ben, that you don't sleep completely bare,” he teased.

 

Ben laughed. “Only if you asked me to,” he answered, wiggling his eyebrows at his colleague.

 

John laughed as well and shook his head. “That is absolutely inappropriate,” he pointed out.

 

Ben spread his hands apologetically, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “You asked.” Now clothed in only his undershirt and tights, Ben kicked the rest of his clothes lazily into the corner of the room.

 

John shook his head and stood to strip off his own pants. “You got me there,” he admitted, as he got down to carefully spread his own clothes over the ground, so that they might not be so wrinkled in the morning. 

 

Ben reclined against the wall and watched John with careful interest, unable to help himself from tracing the shorter man's legs with his eyes. It may be the only chance he got and-- now just a moment, that wasn’t at all the type of thought he should have for his friend! Or any man, for that matter. It was shameful. He glared at the wall and tried to force such thoughts to dispel from his mind.

 

“Are you alright?” John asked, as he sat back on the bed.

 

“Ah-- yes, of course,” Ben answered with a smooth smile. Was it hot in there? Yes, certainly, these rooms were only designed for one person afterall. Fortunately, there was a small window over the bed that could be a source of fresh air. That's what he needed. Ben stood and started to pry the window open.

 

“Good God, what are you doing?” John demanded, “It's freezing out there, you'll kill us both!”

 

“Oh, don't be so dramatic,” Ben scolded, “Cold air is rather good for you, actually.”

 

“Nonsense!” John countered, “We could catch the cold!” 

 

Ben sat back down and examined John's face for a moment. John was even handsome when he was distraught, Ben noted. He smiled and crawled into the bed. “Have you not been acquainted with my Theory of Colds?”

 

John sighed. “I suppose you are to explain it to me regardless,” he answered, voice either amused or annoyed, Ben was unsure.

 

Ben rolled his eyes. “Come on, lay down, I'll convince you.”

 

John, likely too tired to argue any further, let out a huff and obliged. 

 

“You see,” Ben began, once he felt the warmth of his companion at his side, “It's not the cold air itself that causes a cold to happen, but the frowzy, corrupt air from animals, humans and dirty clothes and beds, that lead people to catch colds when they are shut up together in small close rooms like this one.”

 

“Mm-hm.” John nodded a little, sounding rather bored, and pulled the thin wool blanket over the two of them, before turning his head to watch Ben speak.

 

Ben continued, “Cool, fresh air at night, I believe has many benefits.” He stared at the water-stained ceiling as he spoke, elaborating on his theory with scientific studies he believed backed it. He allowed himself to get lost in his words, reciting ideas that understood better than he understood himself. 

 

Ben’s voice lowered gradually, until he was sure John had fallen asleep, by which point Ben himself was feeling rather tired as well. He yawned, and stole a glance at John, smiling at the way the dim moonlight highlighted his gentle features, looking more peaceful in his sleep.

 

“Goodnight, John,” Ben whispered, and, without much thought, he pressed a soft kiss to John’s forehead, before rolling over to face away from John and letting sleep overtake him.

 

*******

 

John woke in the night in a chill, to discover the blanket that should have been covering him was wrapped almost exclusively around his bedmate’s lean frame. He glanced up at the small open window to see that the sun had yet to rise. 

 

Knowing he had much travelling to do in the morning, John decided the quickest solution to his cold problem was to acquire bodyheat from the man who had stolen his away. Too tired to think of consequences, he closed what little space there was between himself and Franklin, until his arms, which he wrapped around his own torso, were pressed to Ben’s back.

 

John closed his eyes again and relaxed, more comfortable now than he had been all night, and drifted back to sleep.

 

*******

 

John woke again when the sunlight hit his face, but refused to open his eyes. The room seemed to have grown warmer between when he had earlier stirred and now, though that could very much be contributed, he supposed, to the warm body he found himself wrapped around. Yes, John was very,  _ very, _ aware that that was Ben’s bare stomach John’s hand had found its way onto. And yes, those were Benjamin Franklin’s legs he found entangled in his own, and the steady, soothing rising and falling chest on which John’s head was laid, belonged to the very same Ben.

 

Well, this was… Awkward. John contemplated the situation for a moment; on one hand, if Ben woke up to find John touching him like this, he would undoubtedly feel violated and likely betrayed, at the very least uncomfortable. On the other hand, Ben’s skin was very soft, and his breathing very steady, and his presence so comforting, more than John might imagine in a situation such as this. Not that John had imagined situations like this before. Definitely not.

 

Okay, maybe from time to time, it had occurred to him that Ben, what with his reputation as a ladies’ man, was most likely a good lover. And maybe he had considered the possibility that Ben would be soft and warm to sleep beside.

 

Nevertheless, he certainly hadn't envisioned a scenario such as this would ever, realistically, pan out. True, he had fancied the idea that sharing the room with Ben would result in a new familiarity, beyond what the two had so far allowed themselves to experience, but he certainly hadn't wished for this!

 

No matter. However John felt about this, it was improper, and would be best remedied before Ben woke.

 

John opened his eyes and carefully tilted his head to look up at Ben, and felt a strange flutter in his chest. A feeling which had previously only been evoked by Abigail. To say he hadn't thought Ben beautiful, well, that would certainly be a lie. But now, as watched Ben sleep, the thought seemed to scream in his mind. Ben looked relaxed, which was far from unusual, but more than that he looked… Peaceful. Something which seemed to be abundantly lacking in everyone since the war had began. 

 

John blinked to try and clear his head, and took a careful breath, before slowly adjusting to remove his hand from Ben’s waist. Ben made a small humming noise and frowned slightly when the touch was gone, but otherwise seemed undisturbed. 

 

John started to delicately untangle their legs next, which proved rather difficult. He placed his now free hand on the other side of Franklin’s torso and carefully lifted himself.

 

It was, of course, in that compromising moment, that Ben decided to stir from his slumber. Firstly, his hand grabbed blindly at John’s arm, coming to a rest on his wrist, and a frown spread across Ben’s face as his eyes started to open. John seemed to freeze and his mind raced to think of an explanation.

 

“John?” Ben’s tired, scratchy voice, was almost as adorable as his confused expression.

 

John laughed slightly in a weak attempt to calm his own nerves. “Uh, it seems that, in our sleep, we have found ourselves in a rather, um, unusual situation.”

 

Ben swallowed and his eyes traced slowly down John’s body, and John’s heart beat so loudly he worried Franklin might hear it. “Interesting,” was all Ben said, before his brain seemed to catch up and he quickly removed his hand from John’s wrist. 

 

Ben looked John in the eyes and John’s heart decided to stop beating entirely for a moment, as strange and inappropriate feelings filled his body.

 

Ben cleared his throat. “So, how long do you plan to stay like that?” he asked, glancing once more down John’s body before meeting his eyes again.

 

“Oh!” John climbed off of Ben quickly and turned to sit on the edge of the bed, so that his back was to Ben. “Sorry,” he said, with another forced laugh.

 

“Don't be,” said Ben in a soft voice. John turned to him with confusion, and Ben looked rather startled for a moment. The taller man sat up and started to fidget with the edge of the blanket. “I mean, I'm sure it was simply an unconscious attempt to gain more warmth in the night. I know your intentions were pure.”

 

“Oh, right,” John answered simply, taken aback simply to see Ben looking so anxious. It wasn't something to which he was accustomed. He almost seemed… Vulnerable. Ben glanced up at John, and John smiled reflexively. “Anyway!” he said as he stood from the bed. “We have a long day of travelling ahead, Edward is probably waiting on us. We should get moving if we wish to catch a full day of travel.”

 

“Of course,” Ben agreed, pushing the blanket aside and plastering a fake smile onto his face. John wondered if his own cheerful demeanor was as transparent.

 

*******

 

The three men ate breakfast at the inn and set out again, this time with John driving the horses, as Ben and Rutledge sat in the back.

 

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Ben asked, “Did you sleep well, Mr. Rutledge?”

 

“Hardly, if I'm to be honest,” replied the stout man. “Those beds were rather uncomfortable, and the room smelled foul.”

 

“Indeed,” Ben agreed, though in the night he had been preoccupied with the smell of John’s expensive cologne, which had been rather faded after a day of travel, and mingled pleasantly with the smell of dust and sweat. 

 

“And you, Dr. Franklin?”

 

“I slept quite well, actually,” Ben answered with a smile. “You'd be surprised what a good bedmate Mr. Adams is.” Yes, Ben was aware that his insinuation was completely inappropriate, but he could hardly be bothered by that now, and the surprised confusion he earned from Mr. Rutledge provided at least some entertainment.

 

“Is that so?” Edward muttered, seeming unsure how to respond to that. “Well, I am glad to hear you are rested.”

 

Ben hummed to acknowledge his comment, but made no further remarks of his own for the following few moments, until, noting Rutledge’s obvious discomfort, he asked, “What sort of conversations do you usually have with Mr. Adams when you ride together?” Edward appeared confused for a moment, so Ben elaborated, “I heard the two of you laughing yesterday, from where I sat, and over meals you always seem included in conversations, yet when it's only the two of us back here, you seem rather discomforted and silent. Why?”

 

Rutledge shifted in his seat. “Do you want an honest answer, doctor?”

 

“I would not have asked otherwise.”

 

Edward looked out his window for a moment. “The regard in which you hold me always seems… Rather, like you contempt me.”

 

Ben hummed thoughtfully at that, he supposed Rutledge wasn’t entirely mistaken. Though, the contempt was compeltely based on an unprovoked chain of thought stemming simply from the fact that he had spent any time alone with John. That wasn't something he thought he could explain, even if he had felt compelled to. “I'm sorry about that,” he answered, “That was not my intention.”

 

“But you do disdain me?” Rutledge pressed, sounding rather unsure of himself.

 

“No,” Ben answered, and looked over to the man to meet his eyes. Part of him wished his problem was as simple as hating a man, any man. Ben was good at hating people. It was love which seemed to be his problem, though there was absolutely no way he could share that information. “I've just been distracted, I’m afraid.”

 

“If you don't mind me asking, what by?”

 

Ben chuckled and shook his head. “What else?” he answered, “Loneliness.”

 

“Ah.” Clarity swept over Edward’s features. “That is something I can understand,” he tried to assure.

 

Ben smiled at him and nodded, though he knew that no, in all likeliness, Edward did not understand this brand of loneliness. The sort that resulted when you knew happiness was so close, and would always be impossible. 

 

The two rode in silence after that, as Ben stared out the window and dreamed of a world where he would be allowed to love freely.

 

*******

 

John hoped that Ben and Edward were getting along well, as he watched the shadows before the carriage shrink into the light of the morning. Rutledge had disclosed to him previously that he feared Ben held some disdain for him, and indeed, some sort of one-sided rivalry did appear to exist.

 

That thought was quickly pushed to the back of his mind, however, as John replayed the morning’s events in his mind. The steady sound of Ben’s heart, the smell of his old clothes, even the feeling of Ben’s gentle breath on his head. He longed to feel those things again, and he repeatedly lectured himself that, even were he not a married man, the two of them were still men. Important men! Such a relationship, if attainable, would certainly mean death for them both.

 

And that was provided Ben even felt the same way, which he likely didn't. No sane man would! John Adams was increasingly aware that he was not quite sane himself. Thoughts which he had previously dismissed as secrets flights of fancy now became aching longing. 

 

He spent the majority of the ride struggling with these thoughts and feelings, fantasizing about Ben returning them and the two engaging in a secret relationship. He contemplated whether the night was something that they should talk about, if it were at all possible that Ben felt the same confusion that he himself did. He imagined a future of repressing these feelings and living in denial or, better yet, being able to completely dispel the feelings entirely. That would be ideal, he thought.

 

At around noon he pulled up to another tavern, this one much larger than the one where they had spent the night, and announced lunch.

 

The three men made light conversation over their meal, engaging in non-controversial topics with the local population as well. All the while, there was an almost tangible tension between Ben and John as they avoided eye contact or any sort of personal topics. Their usual ease of conversation being completely lost.

 

John resolved to talk it out once the two of them could be alone.

 

Rutledge took the reins as Ben and John climbed into the back of the carriage.

 

The carriage started to move, and the two sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, and John felt as though there were some barrier between them. He silently recited what he might say, thinking and rethinking how approach the topic.

 

Ben was the one who broke the silence. “So, was it truthfully accident that you found yourself in my arms this morning?” he asked and, despite the gentleness of his voice, John felt as though he were being accused.

 

“I was honestly asleep, if that's what you mean,” John answered carefully.

 

Ben turned to meet John’s eyes, his expression somewhere between compassionate and disbelieving. “You know it's not,” he said quietly.

 

John swallowed thickly. He wanted to lower his gaze as fear gripped his chest, but he held steady. Ben deserved honesty, particularly if that was what John expected in return. And, never one to shy away, John answered calmly, “It was not in my intentions to be improper.”

 

Ben’s face fell for a moment and he broke eye contact. “I see.”  He stared thoughtfully at the carriage floor for a moment, and John allowed it, knowing Ben was a critical man and would take whatever time he needed to form an answer that would be as honest and as polite as he felt appropriate. 

 

John's heart seemed to stumble as he realized that Ben only took moments of thought like that when addressing John and, if he felt like it, people of power. The sort of people whose opinions might affect his life.

 

“Would you…” Ben took a deep breath. “Would you think it crude of me if I said that was not the answer I was hoping for?” Ben met John's eyes then, searching, apprehensive… Scared.

 

And John thought he had the right to be scared, as his own breath hitched and the meaning of Ben’s words struck him like a slap in the face. That sort of confession was not something to take lightly, that Ben wished to delight in that sort of company with a man-- with  _ John _ , could very well be a death sentence, or at least, ran the risk of losing an important friendship. Franklin was certainly more brave than John could ever hope to be.

 

“John?” Ben’s voice snapped John back into the present, as his brain scrambled to catch up with itself. “Please say something.” His voice was so small in that moment, frightened, like it had probably never been before. He sounded so weak, laying his fate at John's feet. 

 

John tried to answer, but words failed him, he felt as though he had forgotten how to speak. He laughed lightly, out of relief or hysteria, he was unsure. “What?” was all he could choke out.

 

Ben swallowed and closed his eyes. He took another deep breath, shaky, and John realized that he was close to tears. “I feel an affection for you, John. The sort beyond friendship. The improper kind, that a man might feel for a woman. I believe… I might love you, John Adams.”

 

Well, there was no misinterpreting that. John took a deep breath to prepare himself for some answer and, before he could think better of it, he moved across the bench, until he was mere inches from Ben’s side and placed a hand on Ben’s cheek. Ben opened his eyes and turned to meet John’s once more.

 

“I…” John's throat forgot how to make sound, so he threw caution to the wind and without further thought, closed his eyes and leaned in, sealing the space between their mouths, until they were engaged in a firm kiss.

 

Ben melted against John. His shaking hands came up to rest on John’s waist and he tilted his head, swiftly proving John’s theory that he was an excellent kisser. Not that John had much to compare, certainly not any experience in the way of kissing men.

 

It proved very similar to kissing women, however, but more rewarding. They stayed like that for a length of time which was impossible to measure, kissing slowly, softly. John's right hand slid around the back of Ben’s neck, holding him in place, his left, he placed on Ben’s chest. Ben’s hands remained politely situated on John’s waist. Several moments that were longer than a life time and shorter than a second passed, until John slowly pulled away. 

 

They were both breathing hard, if only in an effort to catch up to their speeding hearts.

 

“We could be arrested for this,” John whispered, resting his forehead against Ben’s. “Or worse.”

 

Ben grinned. “Isn’t it exciting?” 

 

John laughed and ran his hand back to rest on the side of Ben’s neck. He pulled his head away to look at Ben more clearly, and leaned his head against the seat of the coach. “I love you.”

 

Ben copied John in leaning his head against the seat, and his smile faltered a bit. “So, what are we to do?”

 

John sighed and shrugged, feeling rather lost himself.

 

Suddenly, the carriage jerked to a stop. Ben and John scrambled away from each other, and the carriage door flew open.

 

A man in funny dark clothes stood in the door of the carriage. He had dark hair, strange glasses, and spoke with an unpleasant voice. “That's them,” he said. “Franklin, Adams, I'm gonna need you to come with me.”

 

John and Ben exchanged confused glances. “Why?” John asked.

 

“Because you don't have a choice,” he answered with a smirk, as a man standing behind him levelled what was quite possibly a weapon at the two of them.

 

John and Ben met each other’s eyes once more, and Ben gave a helpless shrug before looking to the man again. “Where will we be going?”

  
The man smiled, and held out a hand. “Why, the twenty-first century.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah idk about that ending but I sorta figured the sooner they got to a time where they could pursue a relationship the better off they'd be. (and there is no Canon-compliant time they could have come from as Franklin was dead long before John was president not to mention the hsitorical age difference but I digress. I'm very upset about the time frame of IMA.)


End file.
